


Fire in the Sun

by NikoArtagnan



Series: The Introspective Thoughts of a Mr. Bilbo Baggins [4]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Gen, M/M, minor bagginshield
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 12:46:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1745111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikoArtagnan/pseuds/NikoArtagnan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the second time in his life, Bilbo faces down Azog to protect Thorin.</p><p>(Or, the one where Bilbo shows, that despite being a Hobbit, he is still very much a BAMF)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire in the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> The direct sequel to Battle of Five Armies.
> 
> In case you didn’t know, flashbacks are indicated as thus: (italicized) -…words…-

Thorin lies in the blood soaked mud and he’s not moving.

 

Bilbo is running harder than he ever has in his entire life, trying to get to the fallen King, as Azog lets the mace fall.

 

But Bilbo is too far away, and he sees Fili and Kili fling themselves in front of their fallen uncle, loyal until the last.

 

_-…”Fili-“_

_“-and Kili”_

_“-at your service, Mr. Boggins,” the two dwarves say, bowing politely, and Bilbo for one bewildering moment thinks these two must be long-lost members of the Took family, because they have twinkles in their eyes just like his mother did when she thought of a particularly good prank to play and the grief nearly knocks him out at the knees…-_

 

Fili goes flying with the force, to land some yards away and lies still. Kili screams his brother’s name and pays dearly for his distraction, as Azog lands a sickening blow on the side of his head and drops him where he stands.

 

The pale orc kicks Kili aside, and Bilbo screams, but his grief is lost in the roar of battle around him. Azog’s followers are keeping the other dwarves from getting close, and Azog raises that mace for one last, deadly blow.

 

Bilbo ducks under an orc’s sword and dives, slamming Sting into Azog’s unprotected ankle and wrenches upwards, tearing through sinew and spraying black blood everywhere.

 

The pale orc roars in pain, and buckles, but stays up, looking wildly around for his attacker. It takes Bilbo a moment to realize that he’s still disguised by the Ring, and slips it into his pocket.

 

Bilbo gets to his feet, keeping Thorin’s corpse- _no, he’s just unconscious, please, Yavanna, let him be just unconscious_ – behind him.

 

Azog’s eyes are alight with fury and hatred as he stares down at Bilbo, and Bilbo wonders vaguely if he’s taken leave of absolutely all of his senses, but he stays rooted to the ground in front of Thorin.

 

“Have you come to die, Halfling?” the orc asks in his guttural, awful voice, muscles in his arm tensing. Bilbo knows, even as injured as Azog is the orc is still every bit as dangerous as he ever was, like a wild animal backed into a corner.

 

The mace comes up and races down with surprising speed, but Bilbo is a _Hobbit_ , and he’s always been fast, even for Hobbits. He lunges forward, rolling through the space between the orc’s legs.

 

_-“Use your agility, Burglar. It’s your best weapon against your opponents,” he strikes out with his sword, and Bilbo just barely manages to knock it away, before seeing his chance._

_“Like this, Thorin?” Bilbo rolls between Thorin’s legs, neatly avoiding the second blow._

_“Well done, Burglar,” the dwarf King laughs._

_“Bilbo.”_

_“What?”_

_“I do have a name. If you’re going to be teaching me, you should use my name.”_

_“...Very well then…Bilbo.” The sun catches the grey strands of Thorin’s hair, turning them to silver fire in the dying light and Bilbo knows he is lost-_

He leaps to his feet, pivots on a heel, and slams the elven dagger home. It’s surprisingly easy, how the vibrant blue blade pierces through the tough, white skin, carving through flesh and muscle and blood to ram itself home into the base of the orc’s spine.

 

Bilbo _yanks_ the sword up and back, nearly braining himself with the pommel, and tears through what must be a fatal artery. Black blood goes everywhere and blinds him, and Bilbo can’t get out of the way before Azog flails out and knocks him flying into the air. He hits the ground with a thud and goes tumbling down a large incline.

 

He comes to a sudden, abrupt stop when he crashes against a stone that feels like a part of Erebor itself. He lays there for what feels like hours, wracked with the most violent case of the shakes he’s ever experienced in his entire life.

 

When the world finally stops spinning he sits up, leans over, and is wretchedly sick, weeping from the fiery nausea boiling in his belly. When his belly stops heaving, he sits upright and staggers to his feet, legs wobbly from exhaustion and fatigue.

 

He is alive, he is alive, he is _alive,_ though he’s probably the _stupidest_ Hobbit in existence. Bilbo lets out a shaky laugh and runs a hand over his face.

 

Then he goes still, remembering-

 

“Thorin!” he says with a gasp, and scrambles back up the incline. He slips and slides in the bloody ground multiple times before reaching the top, and sees that the battle is still raging, men, elves, dwarves, and orcs dying bloodily all over the field, and Bilbo slips back on his Ring. The world dims and dulls at the edges, and he looks around.

 

He can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief when he sees Azog’s enormous corpse, but he looks past the orc, looking for the sons of Durin.

 

His heart leaps into his throat when he sees the company fighting to get to the fallen dwarves.

 

But the battle is still raging, still roaring, and he watches, in slowly dawning horror, as the hastily allied lines of Men, Elves, and Dwarves are pushed back. They are losing. Then he sees Bolg making his way through the crowd, murder in his eyes as he spots the dwarves by his fallen father.

 

Bilbo is dumbstruck with horror, and he hears that same, cold something laughing at him in the back of his mind.

 

_…ashes, ashes…they all fall down…_

 

He nearly falls to his knees with the hopelessness of it all, but then…

 

Then, he hears something, perhaps a sound born on a distant wind, and cocks his head to one side, concentrating.

 

Hobbits have good ears, better than most races, and he would bet any amount of money in the world that he realizes what that sound is first.

 

He looks up and in the sky he sees spots coming towards them. He squints as the spots get closer, and realizes what they are. A laugh bubbles in his chest and out into the air, and he leaps onto a rock nearby.

 

“THE EAGLES!” He screams, laughing madly and wildly. “THE EAGLES ARE COMING!”

 

He hears cheering and roars of welcome from Men, Elves, and Dwarves alike as the Eagles swoop down on the shrieking, screaming Orcs and Goblins, and laughs until tears pour down his face when Beorn tears through the crowd, flinging Orcs left and right before he slams into Bolg, clearing the path for the other dwarves to carry away their fallen Princes.

 

Beorn himself carries Thorin off the battlefield, with the members of the Company who’d not gone with Fili and Kili accompanying them.

 

Bilbo shakily wipes his eyes and makes to climb off the rock, but a sudden, agonizing pain nearly splits his head in two and he topples to the ground.

 

 _I hope someone can find me_ , he thinks muzzily. _Oh, Thorin, I’m sorry…_

 

And everything goes blissfully dark.


End file.
